


Short story - Multiculturalism in everyday life

by Tiana_Schattenfeder



Category: Original Work
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-08
Updated: 2020-04-08
Packaged: 2021-03-01 20:48:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 556
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23543377
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tiana_Schattenfeder/pseuds/Tiana_Schattenfeder
Summary: Cold wind and blue sky...a short story we had to write for school but that I liked too much to not post it.The topic was multiculturalism in our everyday life.
Kudos: 1





	Short story - Multiculturalism in everyday life

**Author's Note:**

> Critics welcome! Kudos to all of you for staying sane in these hard times!

The girl exits the bus. Cold wind and blue sky. Loud voices and a hustle of people. She is cold and unhappy, so early in the morning. The way through the crowd is difficult and long. Elbows and knees help her clearing the way.

“Tourism even in the winter, nice.” She murmurs. Her face is dispirited.  
There is a sales booth on the other side of the street. Fruits of all kinds are balanced on each other, only a short gap left for a friendly face to observe the buyers. But the wind is cold, and she has no time to stand and wonder. 

People stand and discuss. Some buy fruits, some hurry on an unseen path to an unseen goal. The fruits look juicy and fresh.

“I have to get to school.” she tells herself. Still she looks at the fruits. The crowd moves around the girl like a stream around a rock that has fallen into the river.  
“I must not be late.” she voices. Nobody responds. Still her eyes observe the crowd. 

After a lifetime of tornness, the girl crosses the street and ducks under the fringes of a cloth draped over the booth to shelter passengers from eventual rain. The face she saw in the gap is not to be seen, but the bright color of the fruits brings a smile on her face.

In the corner of her vision she glimpses a group of young men making their way down the street. They are discussing loudly in a foreign language. They look Asian, but she can’t tell exactly from where. They look happy, passing her by the booth.

“I should really go.” She tells to nobody particular. She has no time to stop and stare. Some girls giggling on the other side of the street catch her eye. They are bent over a phone. One of them is wearing a hijab in beautiful white. Right as she averts her gaze, they begin giggling once more. They look happy, laughing over something she can’t see.

“I am late enough already.” She thinks in misery. A Turkish woman approaches the booth quickly and calls something she does not understand. The face appears again and she observes the conversation, during which the glow of cheeriness extends from the unknown woman to the unknown face. They look happy, talking too fast for her to understand.

“I can’t stay and look.” She despairs quietly. The fruits still look delicious. 

Whatever.

She buys three of them from the friendly Turkish face in the gap between the carefully balanced fruits. It looks happy, handing her back her change.

When she slowly makes her way to school, the wind is still cold. The fruits are heavy in her backpack and the crowd is still annoyingly dense. But the faces that draw her eye in the hustle are happy. The fruits are still little flecks of color on the now far away booth and everywhere she goes is contentment and bliss.

“What a joy,” she thinks “that we are not alone. That we are free to be whoever we are and free to go wherever we like it. What a joy that we have the chance to be happy.”

She is late for school and the teacher scolds her, but that does not matter. Her face looks now happy, too.


End file.
